Ships
“Why do we always come here? We never buy anything!”
“It’s fun to look. Don’t you
want to look?”
“It’s a pet store, Jim, a freakin’
pet store.”
“But you like animals.”
Sylvia rolled her eyes like he was stupid.
“You don’t get it, do you?”
They stopped near the door. Her hands gesticulated
like a ceiling fan gone awry. “We’re wasting our
time.”
“Look, Syl. Maybe we should get some fish.”
He shouldn’t have said it. The last time they’d
purchased fish they’d died after only two weeks of feeding—“overfeeding”
Sylvia had said. And then she’d given him, “the
look.”
It came whenever she didn’t like what
he was doing. As if his choice was somehow less important
then hers. So, his gut had begun to grow larger. So what.
People said men with guts was normal after marriage; letting
yourself “go” was finally okay since you didn’t
have to attract anyone anymore. But Jim knew it was more than
that—much more. What was it Sylvia had said? “You
don’t have to eat everything on your plate, Jim. Leave
some stuff.”
But the “stuff” was the best part;
all that gravy swirling around just needing some bread, that
juicy cake dying for someone to eat it. He’d pushed the
plate before him like a ship going out to sea, but in moments
as Sylvia’s mouth quacked about her mother, her job,
her useless boss, he’d returned the ship, called Plate,
and finished the lot. And then he’d ordered cake.
She was still gesticulating with her hands.
“If we’re not going to buy any of these…creatures,
why not go to the zoo?”
They’d done that one twice already; walking
up and down ramps, in and out of doors, smelling and peering
at moose, monkeys and polar bears. And he’d enjoyed it
too, until her fat mouth had opened about the thick and ugly
belly of a pregnant looking mongoose. “Isn’t that
gross?” she’d said.
He’d thought it beautiful, and somehow
not of this world—almost heavenly. He wondered what it
would feel like to be a father.
Sylvia used the excuse of never wanting children
because she said the world was too “harsh,” as if
harshness kept most people as well as animals from populating
the planet. “There’s too much trouble in the world
and I don’t want to bring a child here.”
Of course, he’d been indifferent once
too. But that was before he’d helped the lost boy in
the supermarket.
“You’re not listening, are you?”
Her eyes were still that beautiful blue of
Bear Lake, but her heart was cold. How could he listen to
such crap? How could a person remain the same—no, choose
to remain the same indifferent witch through all eternity?
“I want to be with you forever,”
she’d said that day of their vows, and she’d proved
it over and over to him for almost two years. And then…
“Look. We can buy a fish if you really
want one. I’ll feed him.” Sylvia looked down at
his stomach and frowned, but he was thinking of the brown-eyed
boy in the supermarket. The one he’d rescued; the one
who’d been crying for his mother, snot running down his
little face. He was thinking about the little boy he’d
never have, well, as long as Sylvia clung to her views of
never having children. As long as he was with her…
He must have followed Sylvia into the pet store,
because later, much later, he was choosing a golden fish from
a large fish tank. He named the fish Charley after the little
boy who’d been lost, bought a book on caring for fish,
and spend his off-hours cleaning out the fish tank so the
little tyke would live. He did it, not only to impress Sylvia,
there was something deeper filling his veins.
* * *
“I can’t believe it.” Sylvia
looked down at the tank. The golden fish was swimming and
pecking at the food pebbles as they floated below the surface.
“He’s actually…alive?”
Jim grunted. He placed the book on the coffee
table and walked to the kitchen for a beer.
“Really, Jim. You’ve kept this fellow
alive for two months!”
He smiled inwardly and popped open the can.
It spit and fizzed like snake.
“Jim, did you hear me?”
He took a long and tired sip and walked to
the living room where Sylvia was standing. She was wearing
a red sweater today—his favorite color, and her tight
jeans accentuated her slim hips and tiny waist.
“So?”
“I’m proud of you, Jim.” She giggled, spoiling
the moment. “Sorry. Really. I wouldn’t have believed
it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”
He smiled over at her, grasping for a little
tenderness. A smart spark leapt from her eyes. He took her
by the waist.
“Not now, Jim.”
Jim removed his hand and looked down at the
fish. Charley was a perfect name.
* * *
“Look Jim, the last time we talked about
a baby we only got into a fight.”
It was six months since he’d purchased
the fish, Charley. Now, he had two more. Frank and Minnie
May. All were alive and well.
Sylvia was stomping in the kitchen, her dark
hair flying behind her and all he could think about was how
angry he was that she wouldn’t budge. Okay, she didn’t
want a child, but couldn’t she sacrifice a little for
him? She’d change her mind when she saw the little, pink
ball. She’d laugh and say it was all worth it. She’d…
“Jim?”
“What?”
“You’re not even listening.” She placed four
pieces of bacon into the frying pan. “We talked about
this before we got married, remember? We would live our lives
without children and you agreed.”
“Yes, but…”
“But nothing.” Sylvia turned from
the sizzling noise and glared at him. “You married me
knowing I felt this way. And I married you!”
“Oh, now I get it! You’re having
second thoughts. You want a child, just not with me!”
“That’s crazy!” She turned from
him. “I don’t want children with you or with anyone
else! Can we just talk about something else?”
He walked to the table and sat down. Sylvia’s
back end was covered by her thick robe, and her hair had not
been brushed through yet, but she was still beautiful. He
would always think so no matter what she said. Still…
“Here’s some bacon.” She dumped
three slices on his plate. “Want some eggs?”
Jim stared down at his plate. It was empty
except for the few pieces lying lifeless now in front of him.
“No.” He turned and looked out the misty window.
It had snowed last night and everything, including his car,
was covered with it. “The bacon will be fine.”
